Page 116 of Kotori
I turn in her hands, letting hot water carry away soap and the lingering scent of death. Her eyes track every inch of my body, cataloging scratches and checking for injury with worried attention.
When I step from the shower, she's ready with heated towels, drying my skin with careful devotion. Every gesture speaks of possession accepted, submission perfected through months of conditioning.
"Come," I command, and she follows me to the bedroom with fluid obedience.
When I settle against expensive pillows, she waits. Perfectly still, perfectly trained. Until I gesture for her to approach. The violence still burns in my veins, demanding outlet in the claiming of what's mine.
"Do you know what you are to me?" The question emerges with predatory intensity.
"Yours," she breathes without hesitation. "Your possession."
"Show me," I growl, watching her pupils dilate with conditioned response. "Show me how a devoted woman serves her master after he's protected what belongs to him."
She moves with practiced grace, silk pajamas sliding away from skin I've marked as mine. Every movement deliberate, designed to please the man who owns every inch of her.
"Tell me what you need," I command as she positions herself exactly how I've trained her.
"To please you," she gasps, voice thick with arousal that comes from complete surrender. "To be used by you. To feel owned."
Such perfect conditioning disguised as desire.
I take her mouth with controlled violence, using her exactly as she's begging to be used. She submits with practiced ease, accepting everything I give her because I've made resistance impossible.
"Mine," I growl, positioning her exactly how I want her. Spread, vulnerable, completely at my mercy. "My woman. My perfect little toy to claim whenever I need."
"Yours," she sobs as I fill her without gentleness, the violence of tonight still burning in my blood. "Use me."
The hunger in her voice tells me everything. She needs this, craves being owned completely.
I fuck her hard, each thrust reminding her exactly who controls her body. She takes everything because I've trained her perfectly.
"Tell me you're nothing without me," I demand, fingers finding her throat.
"Nothing," she chokes out. "I'm nothing without you."
The beautiful desperation of someone convinced that captivity is the highest form of love.
"You'll never be anything else, ningyo," I promise, using the word that makes her shudder with need. "Never leave this cage."
She comes with a broken cry at the promise of permanent captivity, her body betraying the truth her mind won't acknowledge. Systematic conditioning to find release in her own imprisonment.
When my own release builds, it hits with the force of everything I've held back tonight. The rage, the violence, the primal need to claim what's mine after protecting it from predators. I fill her with a shuddering growl, marking her as thoroughly as I marked Daichi Shuichi for death.
She takes everything like the perfect vessel I've trained her to be, trembling beneath me as aftershocks roll through both our bodies.
I collapse against her, breathing hard, still buried deep. For long moments there's nothing but the sound of our ragged breathing, the way her heart hammers against my chest, the scent of sex and satisfaction heavy in the air.
My arms tighten around her automatically, possessive even in exhaustion. She fits against me perfectly, molded by months of conditioning to complement every line of my body.
The adrenaline begins to fade. The primitive need for claiming subsides. Her breathing gradually steadies beneath me, soft and trusting in a way that should satisfy the part of me that demands submission.
Instead, something else creeps in.
I listen to the quiet rhythm of her breath, feel the way she holds me. Not just accepting my weight but actively embracing it, offering comfort even in her own exhaustion. Her fingers trace gentle patterns across my back, soothing rather than serving.
And suddenly, without warning, it hits me.
Tonight, when my daughter needed salvation, it wasn't my strength that saved her. It wasn't my authority or my control or my ability to command obedience.
